Striving Towards Positivity (Or, How I'm Learning to Stop Worrying and Love Myself)

Happy 2017, friends!

I was going to close out last year with one of those 'despite a lot of sucky moments, 2016 wasn't that bad' posts, but I was too busy watching Mariah Carey give the last fail of the year.

So here we are, another year down, new resolutions, goals and dreams to follow...but we all know the drill. A few months in (if we're lucky) it all begins to falter. The weight doesn't magically disappear (even after going to the gym almost every day week and eating quinoa and kale religiously), the new novel doesn't get written, and then its June and we're all like 'next year will be different.'

At least, that's how it is for me. And turns out, every year is the same.

I'm kind of sick of it now. I spent a year and a half as a twenty-some dependent of my parents, struggling with an unhealthy weight and stressed out over not finding a job in my field. 2016 was a miracle in that sense. I began interning at a communications firm in NoVa and moved out on my own. But something held me back even as all these great things unfolded: a lack of trust in myself. It held me back through some areas in my job and mostly in my personal life.

I guess I had the mindset that no matter how hard I worked my butt off and tried to succeed as a young professional/individual, I wasn't going to succeed. I've lost a lot for a 24 year old - I couldn't be sure that my new identity wouldn't be lost too. Worst thing: I let myself give into these doubts.

Until Matteo came along.

You all know (probably) that I love cats. Love, love, love them. And I wasn't able to move my ginger rescue with me in June. By the time I was settled in a pet-friendly apartment, Annie was comfortably resigned to the fact that I had moved on and didn't even acknowledge my presence when I drove down to take her back.

But right after that, my friend Sara contacted me, begging me to take her brother's cat's last kitten. Since I'd been getting pictures of him and his litter mates since the day after they were born, it was an easy decision. So I took little Matteo home, and something about him really boosted my mood. Whether it was his cute kitten self or the fact that there was a little creature that depended on me, I wanted to keep going.

So, that's my resolution for 2017. David and I started our 4+ day a week workout right before New Years - for me, it was partly for #bodgoals, partly to push myself to work harder. And I'm picking up where I slacked off as a writer. You'll see a lot more posts from me this year, maybe not every week, but definitely twice a month. And I'm going to be working on nonfiction lit journal submissions and my fantasy saga, so keep an eye for some sneak peeks!

My ultimate goal for this year though is to find positivity and satisfaction in myself. This has been a struggle for me my whole life, but life's too short (and also long) to hate yourself everyday of it. I've written about the challenge to love myself a few times now, but this is the year - nope, day - that I'm going to give up self loathing and strive for love.

Please share your resolutions for the new year in the comments below or on Instagram/Facebook/Twitter. I look forward to hearing from you!

Till next time,
Victoria xx

The blog I didn't want to write

I'm a failure.

I've thought this so many times in my life, in this year, in this month that it's not even a joke. Lost friends, missed job opportunities, failed dreams. 

The first time it happens, you kind of laugh it off and think "hey, you can't win them all." Second, third, fourth times it starts to rough you up, which is a good thing. But then that one failure hits you, the one that finally breaks you and leaves you crying in the dark.

What's even worse than the failure itself is that feeling of being so stupid to think that you could conquer this dream in the first place. Why would you even try if it was going to leave you looking like a fool who couldn't live up to her dreams?

I'm a failure. 

I never made it into the grad program I wanted. I didn't get to fulfill my dream of traveling and studying overseas. I spent a year after graduating with a lack of direction in my life. I applied to hundreds of jobs, and heard back from maybe 12.

I lost friendships I swore would be forever. I hated my body so much that I hit borderline anorexia. I spent three years trying to impress a guy who would never love me the way I hoped. I cut, abused my body, allowed people to walk all over me. I lost some of the most important role models, either physically or emotionally.

I fell, hit rock bottom more times than I can count. But why do we fall?

To pick ourselves back up. 

(Okay, that's Batman. But it's true.)

My life wouldn't be the same if I hadn't failed over and over. I wouldn't have achieved the goals I wanted through the grad program I set my heart on. Each failed job application and interview made me more determined that I'd nail the next. I ended up with a internship in the area I wanted to be since I started college, with more responsibility than most entry-level jobs offer.

I learned that not everyone is meant to remain in your life. That I am beautiful despite my flaws. That the people who truly love you, and will forever, are the ones who see you at your lowest points and still love you. That someday you have to accept that the parent, grandparent, best friend you wanted so hard to please isn't going to be there for you, and that's okay.

I've failed, I've fallen. But I'm a fighter, and I always will be.

Xoxo, Victoria